Archangel Hill
Ian Kearey, Al Scott, G.L Collins
A county mazed by winding lanes
Fields ever freshened by the rains
And rivers serving her as veins
Sussex
Her rolling Downs by Beachy Head
Where poets’ footsteps always tread
And writers’ thoughts are often led
Sussex
Her rivers, Arun, Rother, Ouse
Where fishing folk do sit and muse
Her autumn mists and morning dews
Sussex
Her ancient town of Hastings, Rye
And Winchelsea; though times may try
To oust their names - they’ll never die
Sussex
Her farming men, so bronzed and lean
Work harder now, for times are lean
They say ‘For England’ - but they mean
Sussex - our Sussex
